Strange Habits
by Motor City Mistress
Summary: A conversation on DA sparked me to write a Sylar/Peter smut from the POV of Mr. Muggles. Peter Petrelli x Sylar slash included


**TITLE: Strange Habits**

**CHARACTERS: Mr. Muggles, Gabriel 'Sylar' Grey, Peter Petrelli**

**PAIRINGS: Sylar/Peter**

**NOTES: Was inspired by a comment-conversation with MisterElizabobble on Deviant Art, when we talked about Mr. Muggles. This is all from his point of view. And for the sake of this story, let's just say that Peter was babysitting him for the Bennets.**

**DISCLAIMER: Mr. Muggles, Sylar, Peter, and any others are not mine, nor do I claim they are.**

_**Mr. Muggles' POV**_

The man Mother Sandra left me with is much less attentive than she is. He doesn't insist on coddling me and giving me attention I don't want every ten to fifteen seconds. He gives me only what I need, feeding me and petting me and talking nonstop about my being quiet when his company comes over. Sylar, he says. Sylar is special to him. I would know. I can feel the love radiating off of him in waves when he mentions the name of who I suppose is his mate. It is the same thing that I feel when Glasses Man talks of Mother Sandra. Humans are quite the mystery to me when it comes to their habits, the way Mother Sandra plays with her head-fur to, in effect, make it more visibly pleasing to Glasses Man. I see shades of that in this man, as well. He stands in front of the large, glass box, the one that shows another dog when I look into it, and plays with his long fur.

Boredly, I lie down on the floor and place my chin in my paws, waiting. Without moving my head, I watch the man walk all around this small home and to the door. A half-hearted yip escapes my throat, a warning, when there is a knocking sound on the wood. Another man stands behind it. His head-fur stands on end, like he may have shaken off after a bath and not had his hair properly brushed back down. His body is covered in all black, clothing that he proceeds to shuck off as soon as the door closes behind him.

The man with the long head-fur, my babysitter, has already moved to his couch and laid on it, exposing his underbelly to the taller man. They are obviously mates, the way they act proves it. The tall man is definitely the alpha over the feminine one with long hair. He brushes his extended paw over his mate's belly. He easily strips my babysitter of his clothing before shooting a glance at me.

"Why is that here?"

"Ignore him. I told Sandra I'd watch him tonight. He doesn't know what's going on anyway."

I don't understand what their speech exchange meant, only that they must have been speaking about me. My ears fall a bit, turning backward. I give the alpha male a growl low in my throat.

"It's angry at me." The tall man leans down to press his face against the other's with a wet, licking noise. "Maybe I should go. I mean, you don't want to have me distracting the babysitter, now do you?"

A part of me wishes I could understand what they were talking about. I stand up and pad over, my claws making sharp cracks on the wooden floor. Panting, I take a seat in front of the couch, watching them. An excited yip escapes my throat.

"What does it want?"

My babysitter, stripped clean of his coverings, pushes his larger mate off of his small body. "_He_. _He _wants attention." The feminine man leans down far enough to look me in the eyes. "Hey, buddy, we're trying to do something here. Can we play a little later?" He ruffles my ears affectionately, but it hurts.

Mother Sandra never touches me so roughly. I nip at his hand, and succeed in piercing the skin with my sharp teeth. I give him a self-satisfied snort and walk a few paces away from him, where he can't touch me.

A low cry comes out of my babysitter's mouth, and he cradles his wounded appendage for a moment. "The brat bit me!" He is pulled back into his mate's arms, who immediately assesses the damage that I made.

The taller man gives the skin a nod when it pieces back together, the same way Glasses Man's puppy's does. His puppy is a small, blond thing that looks a bit like Mother Sandra, but not. She talks to me a lot, and never gives me the same attention and coddling that Mother Sandra does. I cannot remember what they call her. I call her Puppy. "It's fine, Peter. He didn't hurt you too much." The man gives me a grin that puts me on edge. It reminds me of the larger dogs that I've seen on the glowing box, the one Puppy likes to sit in front of. Those dogs would eat me.

A growl forms in my chest and I leap up onto a soft armchair. Being taller can make me look more imposing, I think. The two of them give me looks and then disregard me as a non-threat. With a snort, I lie down on the soft cushion, chin on paws.

The alpha male, Sylar? His paws move down the other's body. He grins and begins biting at his mate's neck and underside. He is obviously trying to assert his dominance, though he shouldn't need to. His mate bends to his wants willingly. Plus, his superiority is displayed in the spattering of dark fur across his own chest region, which his mate is devoid of. That part makes me snort once more, my eyes slowly closing, if only for a moment.

That is when the beta male, my babysitter, lets out a whimper that sounds as if he is in pain. A quick glance tells me that his alpha mate has bitten his neck. Sylar continues to touch the other man all over with his paws, and the small one's hairless body arches into every touch.

I yawn and settle in to watch. I've never seen two males mate with each other before. I've seen Glasses Man with Mother Sandra, but they are not as interesting as these two. Not at all.

Growling, the alpha takes a large bite at his mate's neck and begins to suckle at it, like a puppy at its mother. I tilt my head slightly and whimper. I'm not sure what the point of this action really is. The two of them are much more confusing than I originally thought.

Sylar, the alpha, pushes three fingers of his paw into his beta's mouth. I can see the beta male's pink tongue sweeping out to lap at the digits. This action both confuses and disgusts me for some reason. A beta partner slobbering on his alpha's paw is disturbing to me.

I feel a soft growl forming in my throat when I see the saliva-coated hand move down between the smaller male's thighs. He seems to be trying to force something, and the small scream my babysitter makes proves that it hurts. The fur on my back stiffens, and I begin to stand, poised to leap and attack Sylar. But then, the beta moans, the same small, broken moan that Mother Sandra makes when she is happy with Glasses Man. A snort escapes me, and I lay back down on the chair.

I watch momentarily while they move together, and I am confused as to what is going on. Normally, the beta partner only makes noises like the ones my babysitter is making when they are in the process of mating, though it is obvious that they have not begun that aspect of their courtship as of yet.

The alpha male slobbers against his mate's mouth and moves himself more fully between the man's legs. He lifts the smaller male by his haunches easily and draws the sinewy limbs around his center. I tilt my head, watching a little more closely as my babysitter is entered, roughly, by his mate.

"Argh, Sylar!" The beta male cries out loudly. "Hurts! Where's the lube, damn it?" A hiss escapes him, similar to that of the angry alley cat that hangs out outside Mother Sandra's home. I don't like that cat. "Oh, wait, no, do that again."

Sylar moans through a grin. He still reminds me of those evil dogs in the woods. I don't know whether to be frightened or defensive. I settle for a slight growl. Neither male notices me.

The two human males rock against each other, over and over, murmuring words both with and without meaning, combining them with animalistic sounds that I'm sure they don't know they're making. They're both under the impression that I've either fallen asleep, or that I don't know what the mating process looks or sounds like. Of course, neither of those ideas are true, but they don't know that.

There's a strangled yelping noise, the beta male is making it, before he begins spasming off of the soft couch cushions. A white substance begins to flow, sticky, between both men's bodies. My babysitter spreads his legs further and moans when his mate continues to piston in and out of him, humping deeply. Suddenly, the alpha lets out a loud cry as he ejects his seed into his mate.

"Fuck, Sylar, so hot." The beta male nuzzles the other man's face affectionately. "Mmm, so good."

Sylar grins at my babysitter. "No, Peter, you're hot." He slowly moves out from between his mate's spread thighs and sits next to him. "I'm surprised that the dog didn't annoy us."

Again, I know they're talking about me. This time, I can't bring myself to care. That's when I hear the knocking sound on the door, and I know it's Mother Sandra. Don't ask how, I just know the sound of my mother coming to pick me up. I yip and begin to run toward the wood.

My babysitter groans and reaches for his discarded pants, pulling them on quickly and wincing at what I suppose is pain in his reproductive areas. He yanks a shirt over his head and presses a kiss to his mate's lips. "Stay low. Don't let Sandra see you."

The alpha nods and lies back calmly, pillowing his head on his folded hands. "I'll be waiting. We need another round before the shower."

I growl at my babysitter, telling him to hurry. I want to be reunited with Mother Sandra as quickly as possible. Another yip comes from my mouth when he ambles over at a steady pace. Jumping, I scratch at the door and whimper until he finally opens it, pushing me back with the wood.

I scramble around it and jump straight into Mother Sandra's arms, where I am held and cuddled happily. I begin to lick her face, much to her amusement. From there, I am too distracted to think much more about the exchange between Glasses Man and the beta male.

My family begins to leave, and I hook my front paws over Mother Sandra's shoulder and yip a goodbye to my babysitter, who gives me a wave and a laugh. In the distance, from behind the couch, I see Sylar raise a hand to give me a farewell. Part of me hopes that this isn't the last time Mother Sandra lets these two babysit me.


End file.
